Aconcites - A Kevin x Male Reader.

PROLOGUE: Arizona.

A child sat on a rug that was strung along the rather itchy floor of wherever he had resided, staring off into space and not paying attention to the drifting flashes of colors that shone from the TV screen in front of him. The air was humid, and cramped. The child sat with his legs folded over eachother, his palms anxiously sitting against his soft but bruised knees—that seemed to be barely covered by a small bandaid.

The child blinked, letting his eyes drift to the space around him. The air conditioning wasn't on, seemingly by the warm flushes of humidity he could feel burning against his skin. A bead of sweat trickled down his face. The space around him was darkened. And the only thing he heard other than the chattering coming from the TV box that was sit in front of him was the close noise of a page turning.

The child bit his lower lip, anxiously fidgeting with the loose bandaid attached to the bruised spot on his knee. His hand nearly shook every few seconds—practically trembling with each little spot his fingers messed with. The more he fidgeted with the bandaid, the louder the ambience of the TV and the noise of pages turning seemed to become.

Slowly, the child turned his head. The noise of the pages turning was coming from behind himself, appearing to get louder anytime he looked near the direction of the sound.

The child finally found his head lifting upward, and swallowing down the urge to stare at the screen no matter how loud the noises became simply out of the anxiety of what would happen if he did, he let his eyes slowly drift in the direction of the noise—

"Sir?"

A man flinched, his e/c eyes startled as his shoulders rose for only a moment. Warmer air flushed against his flesh in soft blows, and his head finally lifted upward. A lady with a blue cap sat atop her head stood in front of him, holding a clipboard in her hand as she arched a brow. Fences surrounded the area, tendrils of rather brown grass sprouted from the ground below. And a rather large truck sat nearby—the back unloaded as several other people with blue caps grabbed brown boxes and began to head in his direction.

The man was standing on the doorstep of a house, and as he glanced around, he appeared to process where he was. There was a rusty bike leaning against a streetlight nearby. There was the dark, rusty mailbox that was sprouted up from the sidewalk. There was an abandoned shack hidden beside two other houses right in front of the house he was standing on the doorstep of.

..yes, of course. He was here. He had to remember. The bike leaning against the streetlight, the rusty mailbox, the abandoned shack, the brown grass, the warmer air.

Shaking his head, the man brushed his hand against his arm, almost hitting himself in some effort to bring his foggy mind back into the depths of consciousness. Uttering beneath his breath in a hurried manner, he rasped while his eyes fluttered open and shut, "Oh—uh, yeah, ma'am. I got you.."

His other hand slowly slipped into his pocket, and he slowly pulled out a black wallet. Opening the wallet with his hand, he slowly pulled out a few dollars from it, and handed it over to the blue-capped woman standing before him. The woman took the dollars in her hands, and wrote down something on her clipboard before looking upward with a soft smile.

"Thank you, Mr. L/N."

"Ye—Yeah. No problem, ma'am."

————

The man had assisted the people in blue caps, carrying some of the boxes that had apparently been his own as he slipped in and our of the house. Truthfully speaking, the house hadn't exactly been.. what he had pictured it would be. And by the photos he had seen, he expected it to maybe be.. a little cleaner.